


Far From Home

by Dalet



Series: ∞ beginnings [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alien Castiel, Alternate Universe, Angel Castiel, Gen, Human Balthazar, Minor Character Death (Mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:23:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalet/pseuds/Dalet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A meteorite gathered from the desert claims sentience and declares itself an angel. </p>
<p>Confined underground, Castiel seeks to escape and complete his mission by making a deal, and there is only one thing Balthazar wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far From Home

Balthazar wakes up in a cold sweat, panting and shaking.

Beside him, Clarence groans faintly and pushes himself up, blinking groggily.

“...Balthazar?” He rubs his eyes, trying to wake up, when he sees Balthazar’s tears. “...What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing-” Balthazar answers quickly, one hand still clutching his chest. He reaches out and lays a hand on Clarence’s shoulder, squeezing gently, and tries to catch his breath. “Just...just the worst dream I’ve ever had.”

He laughs weakly, and Clarence smiles, shifting over to give Balthazar a reassuring hug, but his dead body is still burning hot.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, slowly pulling away. “I’m so sorry. I miss you, too, so much.”

Balthazar wakes up in a cold sweat, alone.

 

* * *

 

“ _Castiel”_

is the name it gives, the meteorite that fell in the desert. Seizing control of nearby electronics, it announces its sentience to the stunned researchers, greeting them in text on their screens.

“What are you?” they ask.

“ _I’m an angel of the Lord._ ”

“Why are you here?”

_“There is work to be done.”_

Taken for containment underground, he reveals little to the stream of scientific and military personnel who arrive to interrogate him. He will say nothing more of his origins or his purpose on Earth.

Eventually, he refuses any questions at all.

 

* * *

 

Balthazar checks in quietly at work. After eight months, his colleagues know better than to attempt conversation. Balthazar, they’ve deduced, is the type to grieve alone, occupying his time with lengthy double shifts they’re only too happy to pass along.

In exchange, they suppose, they leave him be.

“ _Hello, Balthazar._ ”

Only Castiel speaks to him now.

“ _hi cas. busy day?”_

“ _Dull and unproductive, as always.”_

_“you should get out more”_

Six months ago, the first message appeared: a simple _Hello,_ polite and inviting.

Far from being afraid, Balthazar found himself responding. He was only supposed to be a monitor, but it was so _easy_ to talk to Castiel, perhaps because there _was_ no talking.

Castiel wipes every conversation when Balthazar leaves, and Balthazar has never reported them.

_“I’d_ like _to get out. See the world, as they say.”_

_“i’ll call you a cab”_

_“Would you take me?”_

It’s the first Castiel has ever spoken of leaving, or of himself at all,

_“take you where?”_

_“Home, with you.”_

but Balthazar has told him everything. Castiel, patient, caring, consoling, has become his confidante,

_“why me?”_

_“Because you’re my friend, and I want to help you.”_

even his friend, the only one he has in America.

_“I’m not asking for a favour. I have something to offer you as well.”_

Balthazar pauses, hands hovering over the keyboard. For all he’s told Castiel in the past six months, he’s only really spoken of one thing.

_“If you can help me out of here, I can help you see Clarence again.”_

With his heart in his throat, Balthazar grits his teeth to suppress a sob. It _can’t_ be possible. That was two years ago now. That was what he left behind him, in England.

His fingers almost stumble over the letters in his haste.

_“how?”_

_“I’m an angel. It is within my power to do.”_

Balthazar doesn’t breathe as he types.

_“what do i do?”_

_“Please come closer.”_

The chair skids across the floor and nearly topples as Balthazar stands abruptly, gripping the edge of the table. As he slowly approaches the glass that has been Castiel’s prison since his arrival on Earth, Balthazar wonders if it might all be a trap, a long game played at his expense.

He doesn’t care.

“...what do I do?” Balthazar asks again, very quietly, looking down at Castiel.

For an answer, the meteorite shatters.

Balthazar throws his hands up against the shards of rock and glass…

...and feels someone else’s touch his shoulder.

Clarence, hale and beautiful and _alive_ , smiles at him.

“Clare…” Balthazar’s voice catches hoarsely. Blinking tearfully, he reaches out, laying a hand on Clarence’s arm, then sliding it up to gently cup his cheek.

Clarence leans into the touch, his eyes falling shut. His skin is warm, but only just so.

Everything is all right.

“I’m so glad it worked,” Clarence tilts his head upright, beaming at Balthazar, but Balthazar freezes, staring.

Why does Clarence have an American accent?

“...Balthazar?”

That isn’t how Clare says his name. Balthazar steps back, cradling his hand as though he’d been burnt. Has he?

“Who are you?!”

Now the other person looks surprised, cocking their head.

“It’s me,” he says, “Castiel,” as though it were obvious, and not a gross betrayal.

“What?!” Balthazar snaps in shock. “Is this it? Is _this_ what you meant?!”

“Of course it is,” Castiel answers, bewildered but trying to be kind. “I--” He stops abruptly, his eyes going wide with sudden understanding.

“Ah…” he sighs, looking away and tugging at the sleeve of Clare’s sweater. “I see...what you meant now…”

“Of _course_ I--”

“Balthazar.”

Castiel looks up at him, his tone firm and as gentle as he can manage. “Clarence is dead. I cannot raise the dead; there is no power in the Universe, save God, that can do that. I didn’t realize...that you were unaware. ...I’m sorry.”

Balthazar stiffens, and hastily wipes his eyes with his coat sleeve. “Who would want _this_?” he murmurs, still furious and trembling.

“‘If I could _just_ see him again’,” Castiel quotes, with emphasis on that one, damning word. “It was my mistake to take it so literally, I see that now. I really am sorry.”

He doesn’t, Balthazar notices, offer to set aside their “deal.”

“I’ll take a different form, of course,” Castiel insists. “It would be cruel to-”

_“-No!”_

Balthazar surprises them both with an abrupt lurch forward. “It’s fine!” He forces himself to step back again, to breathe, but Castiel doesn’t look remotely convinced.

“How is it ‘fine’?” he asks sharply. “This was a _mistake;_ you can’t possibly want--”

“It’s _fine.”_ Balthazar couldn’t have imagined saying it a minute ago, but the sheer terror he feels at Castiel’s offer to change leaves him absolutely sure of one thing: he can’t let Clarence disappear again, in any form. Even this facade is better than his nightmare coming to life.

He quickly changes the subject before Castiel can protest. “Now, how am I supposed to get you out of here at that size, anyway? You can’t very well walk out of here with me.”

“Of course I can,” Castiel answers crisply. “No one will see me if I don’t want them to.” He kneels next to Balthazar and gathers up a few shards of glass; with a wave of his hand, the whole structure is reformed.

“I’m starting to wonder why you need my help at all,” Balthazar remarks wryly.

“I don’t know this world yet,” Castiel turns to him again, his easy smile back in place. “It seemed wise to get to know someone, establish a point of reference. Now I have somewhere to go, after all,” he concludes happily.

“Am I really the only one?” Balthazar tilts his head doubtfully.

“You really are,” Castiel assures him, nodding over his shoulder at the glass case. “I’ve left a perfect copy of my old form in there,” he explains.

“No one will ever know I’m gone.”

 

* * *

 

“Should I drive instead?” Castiel asks from the passenger’s seat, his hands neatly folded in his lap.

“Of course not,” Balthazar answers testily.

“Then please keep your eyes on the road.” Castiel is infuriatingly polite, but Balthazar says nothing, and does try to concentrate. He can’t take the risk that Castiel will think better of his disguise.

“How did you _know?”_ Balthazar can’t help but ask.

“Know what?”

“What he looked like,” Balthazar answers quickly. “What he sounds-- sounded like. I mean, except the accent…”

He waits for an answer, but Castiel merely stares out the window, seemingly taken aback.

“...You’re right,” he murmurs. “I _do_ have the accent wrong.”

“--it’s fine,” Balthazar cuts in. It sounds just as odd as before, but Castiel doesn’t seem as doubtful.

“Are you sure?”

“Y-yeah,” Balthazar nods. “It’s good to have a-- to be able to-” He waves a hand vaguely, searching.

“To have a distinguishing feature?”

“Right.”

Balthazar falls silent, still waiting. “But apart from that…?” he prompts, glancing over at Castiel.

“Mm…” Castiel stares at his hands, rhythmically flexing his fingers. “I’m not sure I can explain it to a human. I suppose...it’s enough to say I can read your memories on contact.”

“But you only touched me aft--” Balthazar stops when it occurs to him, and Castiel smiles.

“Yes, when the glass burst.”

“When you blew yourself up,” Balthazar mutters.

“Not my real body,” Castiel adds neatly.

“Not…?” Balthazar glances over again, frowning. “Then what _do_ you look like?”

“...Good question,” Castiel rubs his chin thoughtfully. “What _would_ I look like in a single dimension? I’ve never lived this way before.”

“Well, show me and we’ll find out.” That much honesty, Balthazar thinks, is a perfectly reasonable request, but Castiel shakes his head vigorously.

“No--no, I can’t,” he says, his voice clipped and tense. “It would kill you.”

“Well, aren’t we lofty?” Balthazar scoffs lightly, but Castiel looks almost frightened.

“Only certain people-- _special_ people, prophets and such, can-- could perhaps see my true face and not be…” Castiel’s jaw sets tightly as he chooses his words, “...burnt alive.”

With that proclamation, he falls silent, one thumb nervously rubbing the back of his hand.

Stunned, Balthazar _tries_ not to stare, his mouth slightly open with nothing clever forthcoming.

“Please watch the road,” Castiel says quietly.

Balthazar snaps his jaw shut and grips the wheel tighter, staring determinedly ahead.

“You’re awfully concerned with my safety,” he mutters.

“Why does that surprise you?”

“Well--” Balthazar stammers, trying to explain without picturing the possible consequences, “why does one human life matter so much?”

“I like you,” Castiel answers. “If you cooperate, perhaps we shall spare you when the time comes.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“I was only joking.”

“I’m not,” Balthazar presses on. “Where’s the rest of you? Why are you here? You’ve got _my_ whole story, it’s only fair.”

Castiel makes no sound, but still seems to sigh deeply, looking down again and picking at his sleeves.

“I’m an angel, and, yes, I’m here on a mission. That’s all I can say.”

Balthazar opens his mouth, but Castiel isn’t finished. “That’s _why--_ That’s why I wanted to offer you something else instead, but…”

He does sigh, out loud. “I failed. And I have nothing else I can give you. I’m sorry.”

Balthazar looks over at him for a long moment, but Castiel doesn’t seem to notice.

“...It’s fine,” says Balthazar, turning back to the road, “Really. I do know...you meant well.”

“But isn’t this just like your dream?” Castiel asks, concerned.

“Why?” Balthazar tries to joke. “Are you going to disappear?”

“I don’t plan to. I really do want to help,” Castiel manages a small smile. “You really are my friend, Balthazar.”

“I…” Balthazar starts, stumbling over words he can’t find.

“I understand.”

“No, I…” Balthazar bites his lip, sighing quietly. “...I’m sorry, everything’s just--...” He shakes his head, trying to clear it. Beside him, Castiel nods sympathetically, and Balthazar feels a pang of...something.

“But I don’t-” he insists, “I don’t want you to disappear, Cass.”

Tentatively, he reaches out a hand. Castiel takes it in both of his, and smiles

just like Clare.

 

* * *

 

They leave town the very next day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For more of this AU, see [HERE](https://everymeloveseveryyou.tumblr.com/tagged/u:%20alien/chrono).


End file.
